Distance: 3.2km
Accessibility: Full planned access across the whole route. Be mindful of rubbish and broken glass in places.
Landscape: Outer urban.
After my last walk I decided to head closer to civilization again. What appeared on my my last walk may remain an unsolved mystery. But other people will provide reassurance. Safety.
I had heard of Craw Bill before moving to the House in the Woods. Their folk traditions. Black and white photos of metal claw decorations, and masks with paper teeth. The custom was to tap on the walls with the talons, to keep the demons at bay. Something they whipped this out on Easter and May Day. No chance of a view on a calm June weekend. But with enough looking there may be some interesting scenery, and curios in suburban windows.
A cycle path takes you through a slice of residential housing down an old train route, refurbished in red asphalt. This was not the most adventurous trail, but dog walkers and pushchairs were a comforting thought after the view through the hedges.
Sunday is always on the quiet side, but the car I parked next to was covered in a layer of dust. Despite the solid nature of the path, smashed bottles and torn cans caught the light of the morning sun. Not even a jogger used this advantage of council funding. Heavy curtains hid the innards of pebble dash buildings, despite slivers of light suggesting life inside. A skateboard lay snapped in a heap of nettles. Graffiti watched me from the walls.
This was the most public footpath of my travels so far. And yet for the first time I got the anxious stomach ache of trespassing. That every step took me further into someone else’s land. My walking boots dropped crusts of mud onto the dry tarmac. Trainers are a better choice.
Something echoed. I do not think I had ever hear an echo in a town before.
Perhaps Craw Bill was not such a good choice after all.
:::I do not think the Craw Bill tourist board are going to like this one Barbara.
Apologies for the joke. I am still thinking about last week. And this week. Without anyone to bounce this off I am overthinking every noise.
I had a little sit in the garden this evening. A glass of wine. The trees, they seemed taller. In the darkness, their branches were huge. How long had they been here? A thousand years? How mad is that when you think through? When you think of all the centuries of human progress, from the construction of the Mayan temples, to the space rocket. And yet these sit here, creaking in the wind.
They could hide something else, couldn’t they?
Perhaps I should give Archie a call.
No. I don't know. I'd have to find his number. A few more nights won’t hurt. :::
